


For My Flesh Had Turned to Fur, and My Thoughts Had Turned to You

by literaryoblivion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Scott McCall, Alternate Universe, Angst, Animal Instincts, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Full Shift Werewolves, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Magic, Magical Stiles Stilinski, McCall Pack, Mother-Son Relationship, Pack Dynamics, Pack Politics, Werewolf Politics, Witch Stiles Stilinski, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 10:09:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3205370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They’ve known about the other pack for quite some time now. They know the pack is young and small, formed together more by accident and necessity than anything else. But, they haven’t done anything about them because they’ve been fairly quiet, kept to themselves, and haven’t caused any trouble.</p><p>That is until the Hales start hearing rumors about the McCall pack acquiring a very young and inexperienced but powerful witch. </p><p>So Alpha Hale sends her eldest son, Derek, for all intents and purposes, to spy on the McCall pack and their so-called witch, to see what the truth of the situation is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For My Flesh Had Turned to Fur, and My Thoughts Had Turned to You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jonjo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jonjo/gifts).



> This was an auction fic for [jonjokeat](http://jonjokeat.tumblr.com), who won a fic from me for the Tyler Hoechlin Birthday charity auction (I am sorry it took forever!). I had a ton of fun writing this prompt, so I really hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Thank you to my beta [Fea](http://hamburgerjimmy.tumblr.com) and to a few of my writer friends (you know who you are) who helped me come up with a few ideas for this fic.
> 
> Title comes from slightly altered lyrics of ["Furr" by Blitzen Trapper](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CmBgxP56R1I&ob=av2n).

They’ve known about the other pack for quite some time now. They know the pack is young and small, formed together more by accident and necessity than anything else. But, they haven’t done anything about them because they’ve been fairly quiet, kept to themselves, and haven’t caused any trouble. In fact, the only reason the Hale pack even knows the McCall pack exists nearby is because they can smell them occasionally while on routine territory checks and are informed of them by the local emissary. The Hales have been established in Beacon Hills for quite some time, centuries, generations, and Derek’s fairly certain that the only reason the McCall pack hasn’t wisened up and left Hale territory is because they don’t know about it. They haven’t been steeped in werewolf tradition and pack laws like Derek’s family has, and it’s for that reason alone, he’s positive, that his mother and alpha, Talia, has not approached any member of the McCall pack. She’s of the opinion that as long as they don’t stir things up and stay out of the way, then she has no problem with sharing her land with a pack that doesn’t know any better.

That is until the Hales start hearing rumors about the McCall pack acquiring a very young and inexperienced but powerful witch. If it had been anything but a witch, Talia might have shrugged it off, but when pack members report to her about strange scents and sightings in the woods because of magic, her hackles are raised. Magic and witches are the last thing she wants in her territory, especially if they are from someone who doesn’t understand the depth and consequences of his powers. The Hales and magical folk have never gotten along, and the only remotely magical-type people they communicate with is the emissary, who is more herbalist and healer than strictly magical.

Talia, though, needs proof, and strong evidence before she feels confident enough to finally approach the new pack and Alpha McCall. She might be willing to negotiate with them, even, but she wants to know what she’s dealing with first. So she sends her eldest son, Derek, for all intents and purposes, to spy on the McCall pack and their so-called witch, to see what the truth of the situation is. Never one to question or disobey, Derek accepts, transforms gracefully in a full-wolf, something only direct Hale descendants can do, and stalks his way to the woods where the last magical sighting was.

~

While the Hale territory is large, it only takes Derek half a day to reach his destination. As a wolf, he must hunt for food and find shelter, since he hadn’t taken any sort of provisions with him. It’s easier that way, not having to worry about clothing and gear. It’s also freeing. Derek loves transforming, running around as a wolf, letting his instincts take over as he roams his territory. He doesn’t get to do it as often as he’d like for as long as he’d like, so he’s thankful to his mother and alpha for giving him the opportunity.

He knows it’s not good to stay in this form for long periods of time; the longer he stays as a wolf, the harder it will be for him to transform back to his human self, but he does not believe that is something he’ll have to worry about. At most it will take him a few weeks to scout out the pack, locate the witch, and watch them long enough to determine if they’re a danger. Talia was adamant that he was to do nothing but observe, only interacting with the other pack if he had no other choice because of risk, danger, or self-defense. He has no desire to interact with this other pack, and he doesn’t plan on disobeying his alpha.

Derek finds a small cove near a stream to rejuvenate. Tufts of grass and leaves litter the ground, and a nearby row of bushes hide a few rabbits. After catching the rabbits and eating his fill, he laps up water from the stream, sticking his muzzle and paws in to clean them. Satisfied, he retreats to the cove and curls up in it to take a nap.

He’s only asleep for a few minutes when his ears perk up at a strange noise uncommon to his forest surroundings. He can’t quite make out what it is, too far away to clearly identify it, but it’s loud enough to his heightened senses to cause him to stir, becoming more alert. He stretches before padding out of his burrow and towards the direction of the sound.

As he gets closer, it sounds like someone is muttering as they pace to and fro. It’s not until he’s twenty feet away or so, hiding in the cover of a few bushes and trees, that he sees the person making all the noise.

A tall, thin, gangly boy with pale skin, a smattering of moles on his face, and short brown hair walks from one tree to another, waving his hands and arms around as he does. He looks young, but maybe only a few years younger than Derek, a teenager most likely. He’s wearing jeans and a red pullover hoodie, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, although they keep falling down his arm as he waves them about. Derek can only pick out a few words the boy says, as he’s talking very fast and low. It’s not until he distinctly hears the word _magic_ that Derek ventures out of his hiding spot and closer to the boy in hopes to understand what he’s saying. He is careful, avoiding any twigs or branches as he stalks to a set of trees only a few feet away from the teen.

“--Oh and hey by the way, Scott, I think maybe I’m magical? God, I can’t say that. How am I supposed to deal with this?! I’m supposed to be the regular old human in the pack. And fucking Deaton is no help.” The teen lowers his voice, “‘ _Well, Stiles, until your magic fully manifests itself, I cannot determine what you are or how to assist you._ ’ Awesome. Thanks Deaton. Great advice. So I’m just supposed to wait it out?! Meanwhile I’m accidentally floating in my room and blowing shit up in the kitchen. I can’t afford to replace another appliance before my dad notices.” He runs his long fingers through his hair and pulls.

Derek follows him with his eyes as he continues talking to himself. The rumors had been true, this young, potential (by the sounds of it) witch is still inexperienced in how to control his powers or even what his powers are. Near one of the trees by the teen, Stiles he heard him call himself, is a small stack of books, familiar enough to Derek that he knows they’re probably from the emissary, Deaton. The one on top is open, the pages rustling slightly with a breeze every now and then.

“--And then all he gives me are books, and they aren’t even helpful because half of them are in a language I don’t even know.” The teen stops in his pacing and lets out a loud groan, flopping to the ground.

Derek waits in the brush for the teenager to do something else, say something else, but all he hears is a slowly steadying heartbeat and the sounds of the leaves moving in the breeze. The witch is no longer in his sights, so he risks moving closer. A mistake, as it turns out, because he steps on a twig, causing it to break. The teen instantly sits up, and it’s too late for Derek to hide or run off, so he freezes, hoping he’s far enough away and camouflaged enough not to be noticed.

“Who’s there?” the young witch asks tentatively, as if he’s too scared to make his voice any louder in case there really is someone nearby.

The boy slowly gets on his knees, crouching as he tries to peer into the thick of brush where Derek is, unconsciously holding his breath. The boy takes a scoot forward, eyes squinting as if it would help decipher the leaves from anything else that might be hidden in them. Derek doesn’t quite know what to do, but if the boy keeps coming closer, he’ll have to make a run for it.

“Why are you hiding?” the boy whispers, and Derek really should be leaving now, leaping from his spot and fleeing. But… he’s intrigued. Any other person would have ignored him, or pretended to, not tried to talk to him.

“God, you’re beautiful,” the boy says, and shit Derek should have realized how much closer the boy was, should have noticed that when the boy held back a few branches to approach, it revealed him. He can’t run now, well he could, but the witch might do something to him. He could have known Derek was there all along, pretended that he didn’t know anything about his powers. He could have been acting just for Derek’s sake, just to get him to lower his guard, feel like he’s not a threat.

He could attack, but his mom had specifically said not to interact, and going for the witch’s throat would definitely be considered interaction. Of course… isn’t this, not moving and letting the boy look at him, a type of interaction as well?

“I won’t hurt you. I promise. You just… you don’t have to hide from me. I just want to really look at you,” the boy says, his voice soft and soothing, like he’s talking to a scared and shy animal… which Derek is at this point. “Come here, wolfy,” the boy beckons, with a wave of his hand.

Derek listens for any irregularity in his heartbeat, and other than the uptick when he heard the noise and then when he finally spotted Derek, the boy’s heartbeat is steady and constant.

“Are you lost? Are you alone? A lone wolf in the wild?” the boy asks. He continues to call Derek a wolf, makes cooing soothing noises to try to coax him out of the brush. Enough so that Derek realizes that this witch really must be naive and innocent to not be able to distinguish a real wolf from a werewolf in wolf form. And because Derek has always been curious and bound by his duty to observe, what better way to satisfy both but to step forward?

As he does so, the boy grins, pleased that he convinced the beast to reveal himself. Derek paws cautiously forward, trying not to scare the boy, only to realize that it’s the boy that is trying not to scare him -- a preposterous thought. Derek is the dangerous predator in this scenario, but the boy remains still, unphased as he lets Derek approach and walk around him, sniffing the air near him occasionally.

With great care, the boy stands once Derek has finished his circle and steps over to where his bag and books lay. “I think I have half a sandwich in here,” Stiles mutters to himself as he picks up his backpack and digs through it. Derek sits patiently a few feet away, watching.

“Aha!” Stiles says, lifting the sandwich from the bag. He unwraps it and holds it out for Derek.

Having already scavenged earlier, Derek isn’t remotely hungry, but if a wolf smelled food, he would eat it anyway, never knowing when he’d find his next meal. Since Stiles believes him to be an actual wolf, he must keep up the disguise.

Internally frustrated with himself and the predicament he’s found himself in, Derek paws over to Stiles and sniffs at the sandwich. Then, seeming to approve of it, he delicately takes it from Stiles’s grasp and eats it. It’s peanut butter and jelly, which makes him lick excessively at his teeth to get it all off. While he’s licking, he feels long fingers graze his ear and head and he tenses, stopping his own movements, a growl escaping him.

“Sorry,” Stiles says, lifting his hand away, “I… I wanted to see if it was as soft as it looks. God, please don’t eat me, or bite me.” Under his breath he mumbles, “Way to touch wild animals, Stiles. Idiot.”

Derek feels bad for his reaction and the way Stiles is berating himself. Even though Stiles is right, he should know better than to approach strange animals in the woods, let alone touch them, Derek knows he’s not actually a wild animal. Maybe it’s because of the way the boy beat himself up about it. Maybe it’s because of the way he seemed so frustrated and lost earlier when he thought he was alone. Or maybe it’s because the brief touch of fingers along his fur felt good. Whatever the reason, Derek steps closer to Stiles, nudges his snout against Stiles’s arm until Stiles understands and lifts his hand to pet Derek’s fur again.

He’s still hesitant, the pads of Stiles’s fingers just barely skimming the fur. When Derek pushes his head against Stiles’s hand, Stiles finally lets his fingers press harder, sink into Derek’s fur. He even scratches a little behind Derek’s ears, bringing his other hand to run along the fur on Derek’s back.

“You’re so gorgeous,” Stiles says, awe evident in his voice, to which Derek preens. “I wish I could take you home with me… You probably wouldn’t like it though, not enough room to be free. My dad would definitely not approve, and Scott would probably get jealous…” Stiles pats his side. “Speaking of… I should probably go.”

He stands and gathers up the books and things he had brought and stuffs them in his bag. He slings it over his shoulder and turns to face Derek, who is sitting on his haunches, looking up expectantly at him.

“Tell you what, I’ll bring a sandwich with meat tomorrow if you want. You can keep me company maybe? While I practice?” He rubs a hand over his face. “Geez, what is wrong with me? I’m talking to a wolf like it’s going to understand me and answer me back.” He squats down so he’s nose to nose with Derek. “I’ll see you around, big guy,” Stiles says with a grin and one last scratch and ruffle of Derek’s fur.

Derek sits and watches as the boy walks off. He doesn’t follow, but he can hear the sound of a car engine in the distance.

Well, Stiles might not think Derek understood, but he will accept the invitation. It will make his task a great deal easier, that’s for sure.

~

The next day, when Stiles shows up, Derek is napping by the tree where they had first met. He opens one eye when he hears Stiles approach and sees the grin on Stiles’s face.

“You’re here!” Stiles says, and Derek huffs in reply. Stiles sits down next to him and leans up against the tree. He rummages through his bag. “I brought two sandwiches this time,” he says, pulling both out of the bag. “One for me, and one for you.” He throws the one for Derek over so it lands near his snout.

Expecting food this time, Derek hadn’t eaten much earlier, so it doesn’t take him long to scarf down the sandwich. He licks his lips and yawns before resuming his previous position. He can hear Stiles giggle while he finishes his own sandwich.

“I see you like turkey better than peanut butter. Duly noted, buddy,” Stiles says, looking over at Derek who pretends to not notice he said anything.

When Stiles polishes off his own sandwich he scrubs his hands together and brushes off the crumbs from his shirt and pants. “Alright,” he says, “let’s see if I can do anything today. Hey,” he leans over into Derek’s space, and without meaning to, Derek opens his eyes, as if waiting for Stiles to continue.

Stiles’s lips curl up slightly. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about magic, would ya, wolfy?” Derek just stares at him, unmoving.

Stiles sighs and moves back away from Derek. “Thought so. Well, it was worth a shot.” He reaches for his bag and pulls out a large tome, the same one he had yesterday. “Let’s see if I can figure anything out in here.”

As Stiles starts to read, mumbling the words out loud to himself, Derek lays there by the tree, a foot or so from Stiles, flicking his tail every now and then to shoo a fly or bug. He can’t say this is how he’d imagine this assignment going when his mother gave it to him, but he can’t complain. He’s almost asleep, the sun warm on his fur, when Stiles suddenly jumps up next to him.

“I think I figured, something out!” he shouts, staring at Derek, like he’s expecting him to clap or cheer, which he can do neither. “I gotta try it out first, but…. I need a volunteer,” Stiles says with a sly grin at his face as he eyes Derek.

The last thing Derek wants to do is willingly let an inexperienced witch practice on him, but seeing as he can’t exactly say that, he does the next best thing; he stands and trots away.

“Wait! Wait!” Stiles shouts after him, jogging to catch up with him. “Don’t be such a sourwolf! It’ll just be like a tiny shock and your fur might be pink for a little bit, but it’s all in the name of science!”

Derek ignores him and keeps trotting away.

“Okay, fine! I promise I won’t do anything to you. Just… come back, please?” Stiles says, and he sounds a little hurt, like he’s upset over Derek leaving.

Derek stops and turns around, his head cocked as he stares back at Stiles.

“It’s nice having you nearby. It’s not as… lonely. I realize you have no idea what I’m saying and you probably just want more food, but I don’t know… having another presence around while I figure this stuff out is… good. Come back? Please? I think I have some chips in my bag?”

Derek slowly steps closer to Stiles--telling himself it’s for the chips because he’s still a little hungry--and the boy watches him approach. He stops in front of Stiles, sitting back on his haunches, expectant. Stiles kneels down and runs his fingers through his fur, shaking him a little as he does.

“Come on, you can eat chips and watch me make a fool out of myself,” Stiles says, giving Derek one last pat on the head before standing and walking back over to his things, Derek following behind him.

True to his word, Stiles pulls out a ziplock bag of potato chips and lets Derek chow down on them as he draws a large circle around himself in the dirt. He starts to chant something, looking over at the book splayed open in front of him every so often. Derek watches cautiously, trying to make out the words Stiles is saying, but they’re in a language he’s not familiar with, most likely ancient Latin.

After Stiles finishes the incantation, he holds his breath and closes his eyes, as if he’s waiting for something big. But, after a few minutes, he let’s his breath all out in a rush and lowers his head in his hands.

“God, what am I doing wrong?” he says, exasperated. He sits cross-legged in the circle, pulling the book into his lap. He flips over the pages, his lips moving as he mouths at the words. “Maybe I said it wrong or something. I mean, who knows I don’t even know what I’m actually saying.”

Curious, Derek steps closer to the circle, leery of actually coming closer to it in case it’s active and Stiles can’t tell. He lets out a huff, and Stiles looks up at him.

“I know, buddy. Well, if it had worked, I would have been surrounded by a ring of fire, but seeing as it’s still a line in the dirt…” He shuts the book and leans back on his hands, looking up at the tops of the trees.

Derek steps closer, but whines when he gets to the line. Stiles’s hand snaps over to him, his brow furrowed in concern. The boy leans over and rubs out part of the line in the dirt, breaking the circle.

“I promised I wouldn’t do anything to you, and I am a man of my word, buddy,” Stiles says, holding his hands out in front of him, palms up. Derek pads over to him, licking one of his palms, making Stiles laugh. He feels a little silly doing it, but it’s the only way he knows to show Stiles he understands. He settles on the ground next to Stiles, and Stiles strokes his fur, looking down at the book in his lap.

“Maybe I’m staring off too big. Maybe I need to do something small.” He opens the book again and flips through the pages. “Deaton said something about finding something to focus my power on, in the one time he was actually useful…. Aha.” He stops on a page, presumably finding what he wanted, and starts muttering to himself again.

It’s odd because Derek feels like he should be put off by it, that he should be tense and leery of being so close to the witch, but in truth he feels the opposite. It’s comforting to be near the boy, and even more so when he pets him. He should be distrustful and suspicious of Stiles, but instead he trusts him. It might be his wolf instinct more than anything that leads him to that, in wolf-form, those instincts tend to take over, but the more time he spends with Stiles, the more certain he feels that Stiles is someone he can rely on.

The rest of the afternoon, Stiles tries several times to say spells, read from the book, and do something magical. But every time, nothing happens, and he grows more and more frustrated.

“I don’t understand,” he says, going back to petting Derek, who is now warm against his leg, pressed against him. “When I’m not concentrating at all and don’t want to do any magic, things happen and the blender explodes or my lights turn on and then blow out. But, when I actually want something to happen on purpose, there’s nothing.” Stiles sighs and bends over Derek, resting his head against his back. Derek tenses, but slowly relaxes when Stiles continues stroking him.

“I wish I could figure this out.” Derek knows Stiles is really talking to himself, but Derek feels bad for Stiles. Gradually, he stands, forcing Stiles to sit up with a confused look on his face. “You tired of me?” Stiles asks, frowning when Derek starts trotting away.

Derek returns, however, a small fallen leaf in his mouth. He drops it in Stiles’s lap before settling next to him and resting his head on Stiles’s leg. He’s not sure the boy will know what he’s trying to do or say by giving him the leaf, he’s not even sure himself. He just thought, that if Stiles had a physical object to focus on and maybe the help of someone magical, himself, perhaps Stiles could make something work this time. Spells and incantations are just words, words that mean nothing to Stiles since he doesn’t understand them. But, touch, sight, those are real, understandable.

Stiles picks up the leaf with one hand, his other resting on Derek’s head, lazily scratching behind his ears. “What is this, big guy?” Stiles asks, twirling the leaf between his fingers. He stares at it, unsure. “What do you want me to do with this?”

Derek lifts his head and nudges the book near Stiles with his paw, then rests his head again on Stiles.

“Okaaayyyy. Uh, so it’s a magical leaf?” Derek rolls his eyes with a huff. “I’m supposed to make it magical?” Derek huffs again. “Okay, buddy, I don’t really know what you want me to do, but here goes nothing.”

For good measure, Derek puts a paw on Stiles’s knee, while Stiles holds the leaf out in front of him between his fingers, twirling it back and forth. He stares intently at it, his eyes focused, his forehead creased in concentration. It’s silent all around them, with only the occasional tweet of a bird nearby, not even a breeze to rustle the trees.

After several minutes, Stiles drops his hand that was holding the leaf and looks down at Derek, who meets his gaze. “Well it was a good team effort anyway,” Stiles says, and Derek turns his head to where the leaf had been and barks. “What? I tried--” Stiles starts, only to have his mouth fall open and eyes widen.

In front of them is the leaf, still twirling in the air as if Stiles had never let go of it.

“Oh my god,” Stiles breathes out. “Oh my god! We did it! It worked!” He bends over to give Derek a hug, pressing his face into the soft thick fur. Derek preens, not missing the fact that Stiles gave him the credit of the success as well, not saying it was only him.

“I gotta tell Scott!” Stiles stands, then stops. “No wait… I can’t. He doesn’t know yet. Ugh. Deaton. I’ll tell Deaton. Maybe knowing I did this can get him to help me more or something.” He gathers up the book and plucks the leaf from the air, and slides it between the pages of the book. He runs over to the tree where his other things are. “You, my friend,” he says when he turns to face Derek, “are getting two sandwiches with extra meat tomorrow.” He kneels in front of Derek and throws his arms around his neck and gives Derek a hug. He stands and pats his head. “See you tomorrow!” he shouts, running off in the direction he had come.

Again, Derek sits and waits till he hears the roar of the same car engine from yesterday before retreating back to the burrow he’s been using as his den. He’s not sure what’s come over him, why he helped a witch with his powers today. His mom would assuredly be ashamed of him, admonish him for trusting someone so dangerous.

Only, Stiles isn’t dangerous at all.

In fact, Derek has probably gathered enough of what he needs to go back to his mother and tell her that at the moment Stiles is more a threat to himself than he is to the Hale pack. That he is magical, but that he’s young and naive, and is trying to learn for himself about magic. That Stiles is good, that all he wants is to stop unwittingly destroying kitchen appliances, that Stiles is the only one in his pack that knows of his magical abilities, aside from the neutral emissary Deaton.

He could tell her that Stiles is too afraid of his own power to tell his alpha, and that alone should prove he’s safe, that he’s not dangerous, that he would never do them harm.

But, he knows what she would reply. How could Derek possibly know that? How could he be sure? How could two days of watching him prove that?

He could mention his instincts, but his mother has always let her human side rule her more than her wolf. She’d tell him that instincts could be deceiving, that human trickery and deceit could prove relying on instincts to be fatal. She’d tell him of the times that this has happened, where she knows from experience that instincts weren’t enough.

No, he couldn’t go back yet. He had to find something, had to watch Stiles more to find something that would prove to his alpha that the boy was kind and caring, that he wouldn’t use his newfound magic for nefarious means.

Because, somehow, perhaps letting his own animal instincts rule him more than he should, overnight, he’d grown fond of the young witch, and he couldn’t just feed him to the wolves, _his_ wolves, without trying to put up a fight for him first.

~

As promised, Stiles returns the next day with two sandwiches and a few more chips, and the same could be said of the next day, and the next.

Soon, Derek looked forward and waited impatiently for Stiles to arrive every day. Sometimes he would be late, the light fading as the sun went down, and would come running to Derek with extra food as an apology. Often he’d even stay later on those days, sitting with Derek until the moon was bright in the sky, the stars twinkling in the midnight blue above them. Sometimes, Stiles would get there early, waiting at the tree until Derek padded out from the bushes.

But every time, he’d greet Derek with a hug and give him the same when he left. Derek always wished he could return the favor, wrap his own arms around Stiles and never let him go instead of nuzzling into Stiles’s neck with his muzzle.

He could of course, but he wasn’t sure how Stiles would take it, worried the boy would feel betrayed and lied to. While Derek was a wolf, Stiles shared personal things with him, not just practiced his magic. Most likely, Stiles just needed someone to listen, and Derek was more than happy to lay his head in Stiles’s lap and do so while the boy ran his fingers through his fur. He told Derek of his family, his pack, how Scott became Alpha, how they were thrown together with no guidance and had to figure out everything on their own. He told him of his fears, fears about losing his dad like he had lost his mother, of hoping that he could get better with his magic so that wouldn’t happen, so that he could protect them all.

Derek would whine in sympathy, remember his own family and pack, about how it had already been a few weeks and that if he didn’t return soon, his mother would worry, imagine the worst and attack the McCall pack to get to Derek. He’s already been in wolf form for far longer than he planned, and he has more than enough information to inform his alpha about Stiles and the rest of the pack.

What holds him back is the thought of leaving Stiles, the look of sadness and worry and disappointment when Stiles comes to their usual spot to find it empty. He can imagine Stiles sitting by the tree, moving leaf after leaf through the air with his magic until he’d form a tree of his own in the air, as he waits for Derek to find him. And when the sun sets and it grows darker, the leaves suddenly fall from their imaginary branches as Stiles buries his face into his hands.

He can’t bare to leave Stiles like that. But, there’s no way he can tell Stiles that he’ll return, or to even have Stiles come with him. So Derek stays.

After the third week, however, he can feel his wolf controlling his thoughts and actions more, can sense that if he doesn’t shift out and become human again soon (which he might not be able to do on his own anymore), he will be overcome by instinct and do something he might regret. He has to leave. He has to return to his pack, being away from them for so long is also affecting him, and though he’s had the companionship of Stiles every day, it’s not the same as being surrounded by one’s pack.

When Stiles hugs him goodbye, Derek purposefully nuzzles and licks at Stiles’s neck longer than he should, hoping that when Stiles returns the next day to a missing wolf that this was a goodbye. Stiles pulls away and stands, and Derek whines, paws at Stiles’s legs, until Stiles kneels down again, taking Derek’s face between his hands.

“What is it, buddy?”

In answer, Derek licks Stiles’s face, his nose, his cheeks, lips, chin, all the while wishing that he could say _goodbye, don’t worry_ by far less crude means.

Stiles giggles, wiping at his face with his arm. “Yeah, I love you, too,” Stiles says, burying his face in Derek’s fur.

It takes a few seconds to register what Stiles has said, and the words cut Derek and make his heart ache. There’s no way Stiles can ever forgive him now if he finds out the truth, discovers what Derek truly is. He had some small vein hope that maybe Stiles would want him when he was human, when he revealed himself and Stiles forgave him the lie. But now, he’s not sure he can ever gain Stiles’s trust again after this is over, let alone have Stiles want and love him after.

This time when Stiles let’s go, Derek lets him, brushes up against his legs one last time, and sits back on his haunches as he watches Stiles walk away for the last time. He decides to leave something behind for Stiles, something that Stiles would know is for him, something that will let Stiles know he shouldn’t worry about him.

He gathers up several leaves and puts them in a pile near the base of their tree. He runs down to the stream near where he’s been sleeping, and jumps around in the water and mud to make sure his paws are good and dirty. He returns to the tree and stamps his paw on as many of the leaves in the pile as he can, leaving muddy prints on them. He pushes a few rocks with his muzzle to the same spot in an attempt to shield the leaf pile from any breeze that might whisk the leaves away.

Once he is satisfied, hoping that Stiles will understand and know it’s from him, he turns and runs.

~

He’s only a few miles from his home when he hears the roar of his alpha and then sees the wolf of his mother. She comes bounding over to him, knocking him to the ground, sniffing and nuzzling him all over. After she’s done, assured he has no injuries, she sits back on her haunches, expectant. Derek lowers his head, submitting, and whines, knowing what she wants, only he can’t shift back. He had tried that last week, every day after Stiles left but couldn’t bring it about.

His mother’s gaze narrows, and he can tell she’s frowning even in her wolf form. She huffs and takes a few steps back from him before taking in a great deal of air and roaring loud and deep at Derek. Her eyes bleed red, and her roar echoes around them, bouncing off the trees and the house. He knows within minutes, the rest of the pack will be bounding over to them after hearing their alpha’s call.

When the ringing of Derek’s ears at his mother’s roar subsides, he looks down to see his arms and hands, his legs. He’s human again, and the forced shift has made his entire body ache with the abrupt change. He curls in on himself, both hoping it will help the pain and to cover himself and retain his heat.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his mother shift gracefully, coming to stand next to him. A few of his siblings are running over, blankets and robes in their hands, which they wrap around both he and his mother. His mother pulls him into her and hugs him close to her, rubbing soothing patterns into his skin. It’s when she’s shushing him gently that he realizes he’s been crying, tears falling freely down his face.

“You’ve been gone too long, pup. Come,” his mother says, guiding him towards the house.

Eventually, after Derek’s calmed down, washed up, and clothed, he tells his mom everything he feels she should know. He tells her about what he’s found out about the McCall pack, their alpha, and the witch. He emphasizes that the witch is young that he is still practicing, learning, and that he only wants to learn to control it to protect his pack and for no other nefarious purposes. He tries to keep it as neutral and impartial as possible, telling her about Stiles as if he only observed him from afar. Talia, though, can tell there is something more, something her son discovered on this assignment that he’s not telling her.

“Did you see Alpha McCall? How do you know so much about him?” Talia asks, calm and patient.

Derek knows his mother will pick up on the lie if he tries, so he doesn’t. “No, I didn’t see him, but I was able to find out about him by listening to his pack member.”

“The witch?” Derek nods. “And he said all these things out loud to himself while you observed from the bushes?”

Derek looks down, hoping his heart is steady when he gives a subtle nod.

“Oh, Derek,” she sighs out. His eyes meet hers, face confused. “What is the witch’s name?”

“Stiles,” he answers, too quickly and with too much fondness and softness to fool anyone, especially not his alpha.

Talia gives her son a small smile and takes his hands in hers as she comes to sit next to him on the bench he’s been occupying in their private library. “Does he know?” she asks quietly.

“Know what?”

“That you love him?”

Derek opens his mouth only to shut it again, shaking his head. “There was no way I could.”

“He thought you were a wolf, didn’t he?”

When Derek nods again, his mother wraps her arms around him and pulls him into her chest. She rubs a hand up and down his arm, letting Derek draw comfort from the movement.

“I suppose it’s time I meet Alpha McCall and his pack.” She lifts Derek’s chin so he has to look at her. “If he feels the same, he’ll forgive you.”

Derek’s not sure he believes her, but it gives him a glimmer of hope to cling to, and cling to it he does.

~

It takes a few days for the official invitation to reach the McCall pack and a few days after that for them to arrive. Talia has made everything as casual and non-threatening as possible, knowing that werewolf tradition and inter-pack laws will mean nothing to the young alpha. Despite that, the rest of the pack out of habit is still tense, lined up in order of hierarchy behind Talia, her mate, and their children. Even the emissary Deaton is waiting off to the side, present if he is needed for any moderating in their discussions.

Even though the McCall pack is small and unfamiliar with werewolf customs, they arrive bearing a gift of meat and fruit, and when their alpha comes to stand in front of Talia, he bears his throat in a sign of respect and good faith. Talia touches his neck reverently and does the same to Alpha McCall, bearing her neck until he touches it.

“Welcome, Alpha McCall. I am Alpha Talia Hale, but you are more than welcome to call me Talia. This is my mate, Nathan,” she gestures to the man standing beside her, “and these are my children, Laura, Derek, Cora, and Blake.” When she calls their name, each wolf steps forward, baring their neck to the visiting alpha. Derek purposefully avoids Alpha McCall’s gaze as he nods at each of them.

“And this,” Talia continues, “is the rest of my pack,” she says as she waves to the others that are standing behind her. “I’m sure they’ll introduce themselves once we’ve sat down to eat.”

Alpha McCall nods. “I am Scott McCall. This is my mother, Melissa,” he says waving a hand to the curly haired woman at his side. “And this is Stiles,” who is standing on his other side. Derek can’t help but focus on Stiles. He’s standing straighter, more confident than Derek remembers him ever being in the woods. The light he remembers seeing in Stiles’s eyes for those few weeks has dulled though, and Derek knows it’s because of him.

Scott decides to introduce the rest of his pack even though Talia hadn’t. There’s Stiles’s father, a small Asian girl named Kira, which Derek can tell right away is a kitsune, a red haired girl named Lydia that doesn’t smell of a wolf, and a brown haired girl named Malia. There’s another very young boy, a werewolf, named Liam.

Each of Scott’s pack bare their throats when introduced, and Talia nods to each of them, her gaze lingering on Stiles. Formal matters taken care of, Talia ushers them toward the table that’s set out full of food prepared for their meeting. The two packs mingle and discuss, the Hale pack introducing themselves to those of the McCall pack.

While Derek’s in line, Scott approaches him, his hand extended for a shake. Derek accepts and when he does, Scott cocks his head and a look of confusion briefly passes over his face, but is quickly replaced with a smile.

“It was Derek, right?” Scott asks.

Derek nods. “Alpha McCall,” he says in greeting, only to have Scott wave him off.

“Please, call me Scott.” He gives Derek a warm grin, and Derek can tell it’s not a sentiment. He would rather be called Scott than anything with a title involved.

“Scott. So…. you seem to have a rather mixed pack.”

Scott scrunches his nose for a moment, but the smile returns quickly as he looks back at his other pack members mingling with those of the Hale pack. Stiles seems to be in a rather engaging conversation with Erica of the Hale pack, but Derek notices that every once in a while, his eyes dart to him and Scott.

“You can tell, huh?” Scott asks, genuinely curious.

“Some of them. Liam smells of a wolf, but the Asian girl…”

“Kira,” Scott supplies helpfully.

“Right. She has the aura of a fox, a kitsune. The red-head doesn’t smell human, but I can’t tell what she is.”

“Lydia’s a banshee. She’s still trying to figure out what that means exactly, but she’s also a genius, so it probably won’t take her too long. We’re all trying to figure this out, actually,” Scott says the last sentence on a sigh, the smile that’s been plastered on his face most of the time finally wilting.

“I’m sure we, my mom, can help. We have a large library that might aid Lydia’s research.”

“And Stiles’s,” Scott adds, and at the name, Derek winces involuntarily, a pang of guilt and longing coursing through him.

“Stiles is more than welcome as well, as long as my alpha approves.” Derek wants to ask what he’s researching, and more importantly if Scott knows what it is, knows what Stiles is and the power he contains. He remembers Stiles fretting about keeping it secret and not telling anyone else in the pack. But despite how young and inexperienced Scott is as an alpha, surely this is something he can sense and pick up on.

Seeming to read his mind, Scott opens his mouth, “I know Stiles is something, too. He’s gone too long every day, and lately he’s been coming back smelling of dirt and--” Scott looks back at Stiles and then back at Derek, his eyes widening as if he’s figured something out. Before he can comment on it, Talia is stepping beside Scott.

“Alpha McCall,” Talia says, placing a gentle arm on Scott’s arm. “Shall we start negotiations?”

Scott stares at Derek a moment longer, eyes narrowed, before turning to Talia with a smile and nod.

“Of course. It was nice to meet you, Derek,” he says before following Talia toward the house.

He watches them leave, watches as his mom continues to the house while Scott stops and whispers something to Stiles that Derek is too far away to hear. Whatever he said, though, must be about him because Stiles’s eyes widen and his eyes snap up to Derek. Scott pats Stiles’s arm and jogs off to catch up with Talia who is waiting on the porch.

When Derek returns his gaze to Stiles, Stiles is already walking towards him. He can’t read his face, can’t tell if Stiles is angry or upset or neutral, but his walk is casual.

Derek is torn between his gut reaction to run away to avoid the confrontation and the instinct to stay and be with Stiles and pull him in close and scent him. He’s still standing there when Stiles stops in front of him, but he does resist the urge to nuzzle or lick his neck.

“Hi. I’m Stiles.” He extends his hand out in front of him, and Derek shakes it. Inside, he’s upset at how formal the gesture is considering they’ve shared more with each other than that. Of course, it was more Stiles doing the sharing, but Stiles doesn’t know that.

“Derek,” he answers when he drops Stiles’s hand after holding it for longer than he should. God, he missed him. It feels different touching Stiles while he’s in his human form, but at the same time it feels familiar.

“So…” Stiles says, shoving his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels.

“So,” Derek parrots. “Your alpha mentioned you might be interested in researching some of the books in our library. I’d be happy to show you and your packmate Lydia if you’re interested?” Derek gestures towards the house and Lydia who’s sitting a ways off talking to his sisters Laura and Cora at a table.

Stiles bites his lip. “That would be awesome, but… I don’t want to interrupt the negotiations. I’m actually a little more interested in exploring your land? Would you… accompany me?” Stiles asks, voice small and hesitant.

And wolf-form or human-form, Derek can’t deny Stiles. “Of course,” he replies with a hand in front of him for Stiles to lead the way. Stiles gives him a grin and walks off into the grove of trees behind them.

As they walk, Derek feels a little uncomfortable, if he’s honest. The way Stiles is walking further into the trees is less exploratory and more with a purpose. He has the brief thought that Stiles may be luring him to his death, but even though Stiles doesn’t know Derek’s his wolf, he wouldn’t do that, not with both packs so near. Although, that may be why they keep traveling deeper into the forest.

“Can you hear anyone?” Stiles says, stopping suddenly and turning to face Derek. Derek almost collides into Stiles, but plants his feet just in time to stop himself.

“The packs?” Derek asks, confusion apparent on his face.

Stiles bobs his head, looking over Derek’s shoulder. “You can’t hear any of them, right?”

“No. Why?”

“So, they can’t hear us either, yeah? We’re too far away?”

“Should I be worried?”

Stiles sighs and runs his hand over his face. “I just want to make sure this conversation is truly private.”

“And what conversation would that be?” Derek hopes Stiles won’t pick up on the nervousness in his voice.

Stiles takes another step closer to Derek, leans forward, and narrows his eyes, and studies Derek’s face and eyes. Derek holds his breath, stands still, and hopes he’s evoking an air of nonchalance at Stiles’s proximity to him. Slowly, Stiles leans back out of Derek’s space and sighs, running a hand through his hair.

“I thought…” Stiles starts and shakes his head, turning to walk away from Derek. Derek catches Stiles’s wrist, stopping him from retreating.

“Thought what?” Derek demands, desperation seeping into his voice.

The boy lifts his head and shrugs. “Nothing.”

Derek moves closer to Stiles, his hand still wrapped around Stiles’s wrist like a lifeline.

“ _Stiles_.” His voice is full of emotion, so much so Stiles can feel it, too. Stiles takes a deep breath and lets it out gradually. He shifts back into Derek’s space, their chests only a few inches apart. Derek drops Stiles’s hand and waits for him to say something.

“I’m going to ask you a question, and you have to promise me you’ll answer it honestly.”

Derek’s features turn serious. “I promise.”

Stiles’s lips curl up slightly. “Derek, are… are you my wolf?” He bites his lip, his eyes earnest as he waits for Derek to answer.

And Derek… Derek knows he has to say yes, but what if Stiles hates him for it, is furious when he hears the truth? But… Stiles doesn’t seem like he’s angry or that he’ll lash out. No, the way he asked if Derek was _his_ wolf is the opposite of fury. It seems like he’s waiting for his heart to be broken, and Derek’s not sure which answer will do the deed.

Finally, Derek answers, “Yes. I am the wolf you met in the woods.” He closes his eyes, not sure he wants to see Stiles’s reaction to the news.

He opens them when he feels a palm against his cheek and fingers graze his jaw. Stiles is smiling at him, his eyes shiny with unshed tears. He’s so close and his scent and touch is intoxicating.

“My wolfy.” Stiles’s voice is reverent and fond and loving, and hearing Stiles claim him settles something in Derek’s chest, the fear and guilt and trepidation melting away.

“Yours,” Derek says, and at the word, Stiles throws his arms around Derek’s neck like he used to when he was in wolf-form.

It’s different now of course, with both men being a similar height, and Derek’s hands grip at the back of Stiles’s shirt like he needs him to stay afloat. Derek buries his face in Stiles’s neck and nuzzles him like he would have as a wolf, his nose running along the tendons of Stiles’s neck.

With his nostrils full of Stiles, his skin tingling at Stiles holding him, he pulls back to look at the boy.

“I really missed you, wolfy.”

Derek winces, a wave of guilt washing over him. “I’m sorry, I had to…”

Stiles puts a finger over his lips. “Shhh… it’s alright. I understand now why you left. Besides, you told me… in a way.”

Derek sighs in relief, glad Stiles understood his message by the tree. “I missed you, too.”

Stiles grins. “Yeah?”

Derek rolls his eyes, and Stiles laughs and bumps his nose against Derek's. It's meant as a playful gesture, but when Stiles does it, he doesn't move away but presses his forehead against Derek's, his eyes closed.

“Derek?” The werewolf hums. “Would it… would it be weird to kiss you right now? Because, I really want to kiss you. Can I kiss you?” Stiles says it in a rush, and before Stiles can pull back, Derek tilts his head and captures Stiles’s lips with his own.

The boy lets out a contented sigh at the kiss and wraps his arms tighter around Derek, his hands finding their way into Derek’s hair. Both of them lick and nip at each other’s lips, opening their mouths and deepening the kiss. After a few more moments, they break the kiss, both breathless and excited.

“So, you’re not mad?” Derek whispers. He has to know for sure, has to hear it from Stiles’s mouth.

Stiles giggles and pecks Derek on the lips. “Does it look like I am?” Derek frowns at him, since it’s not really an answer. Stiles steps out of Derek’s arms to explain. “I was more upset than mad at first. I had my suspicions after that second day that you might not be an actual wolf, especially when Scott got so angry about smelling you on me. But… you were always there, and I kind of expected you to be. So when you weren’t… But then, a few days later, Scott got an invite from Alpha Hale, and I thought maybe… maybe my suspicions were right?”

“Scott told you, didn’t he?”

Stiles grins and nods. “Yeah, just said that you smelled the same as when I was coming back from being in the forest. That’s when I knew.”

“I’m glad you figured it out. I… wasn’t sure how to tell you. How you would… react.” Derek rubs the back of his neck, and Stiles steps back into his space, framing Derek’s face with his hands.

“You’re still my wolf whether you’re human or not, right?”

Derek nods with a smile on his face. He leans forward and kisses Stiles again briefly.

“We should get back. Everyone is probably wondering where we went.”

Stiles agrees and links his fingers with Derek’s as they walk back through the trees and to Derek’s house.

When they arrive, both packs are outside, including both alphas, playing games and talking. The sun is starting to set, so the Hales start a small fire in a pit, and some of the younger pack members are pulling out marshmallows. Once Derek and Stiles emerge from the woods, Scott is the first to see them and meet them. Scott takes one look at their linked hands and smiling faces and nods.

“Now, I know why Alpha Hale added all those stipulations about interpack relationships,” Scott says.

Derek’s face reddens, but Stiles, of course, laughs.

“Well, it’s good to know we’re not breaking any pack treaties or rules,” Stiles says, giving Derek a cheeky grin and a wink.

Derek rolls his eyes and squeezes Stiles’s hand. Scott waves them over to the fire, and they both follow him. They spend the rest of the evening getting to know each other better and the rest of their pack members as well. By the time the McCall pack is leaving, Derek has firm orders from Stiles’s dad to come to dinner, and a promise to Stiles that he’d meet him in the woods the next day.

“To practice,” Stiles says with a wink.

“Right, practice,” Derek deadpans.

“Bye, wolfy,” Stiles says, almost tackling Derek in his hug. “Bye, Derek,” he says, kissing Derek nice and slow.

“Bye, Stiles,” Derek says breathless from his kiss with Stiles. The boy smiles and waves, jogging to catch up with the rest of his pack who are leaving.

He’s too busy watching them to notice his mother sidling up next to him. “I’m happy to see you worked everything out between you two.” Derek’s cheeks flush. “I’ve never seen you so happy before. Better hold on to that one,” she says, kissing him on the temple before turning to help the pack clean up.

 _I will_ , Derek thinks, and he has no plans to ever let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi on [my tumblr](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com) or [my twitter](http://twitter.com/lit_oblivion).
> 
> Also, if I missed any tags, let me know! :)


End file.
